Ward F
by ToxicalityIssue
Summary: Bill is an 18-year-old high school senior with an obsession for the criminally insane. While visiting the local mental institution for a subject to write his research paper on, he is assigned Tom Kaulitz. Is Tom the perfect subject or a nightmare
1. Chapter 1

Bill sat in his classroom, staring at the clock and wishing for it to hurry up so he could get a head start on the research paper he would have to write for his favorite class. He was nearly jumping up and down in his chair with complete excitement. Psychology was something that Bill was absolutely fascinated with, even more so, criminal psychology. He always wanted to know what made those people tick and had determined that for this project, he was going to. He was going to earn that damn A+ if it was the last thing he did.

Bill wasn't your average high school senior. He was 18 years old, his favorite color was black, even if it wasn't a true color, his favorite animal was a dog, and his favorite school subject was Criminal Psychology. His feminine face was framed by thick dyed-black hair that hung neatly around his face, his bangs shorter and falling just over his right eye. He wasn't popular, but somewhere in the middle. He was also interested in men. Sure, he was normal in some ways, but he was fascinated by the disturbed.

He was sometimes even more than fascinated by the disturbed. He was verging on being obsessed with them. For his Criminal Psychology paper, he had called ahead to the Irrensburg Lunatic Asylum in the next town over and had asked if he could interview one of their patients. He wanted to be as close as possible to the mentally disturbed.

Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. The clock seemed to move as slowly as possible. Bill could not contain his excitement as his eyes remained glued to the clock. Just five more minutes and he would be able to go to Irrensburg and meet his patient, or rather, his study subject.

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One!" Bill counted down the minutes in a whisper, jumping up the second the bell rang. He grabbed his backpack that he had packed up ahead of time and ran out of the school building to his car, throwing his bag in the backseat and hopping behind the steering wheel.

Within a minute, Bill was on the main road, following the street signs to his destination. He had checked the place out many times, having practically begged for a glimpse of the inside to satisfy his addiction for the mentally-ill. His foot pressed the gas pedal with more pressure than he normally would, sending him speeding to his destination.

Upon entering the nearly-deserted parking lot, Bill quickly parked his car up front and hopped out, locking his car after he grabbed a notebook. He had practically jogged to the door, a bright smile plastered on his nearly perfect face. He pushed the front door open as his eyes scanned the premises, spotting the visitor's desk.

"Uhm, hello. My name is Bill T-" He started before he was cut off by the receptionist.

"The kid with the paper, right?" She asked him.

"Yes, that's me." Bill laughed softly to hide his excitement, pretending he was just nervous.

"Sign here please." She handed him a book with one other signature in it, from three years before.

"Am I the first visitor in three years?" Bill asked in curiosity, signing his name quickly before handing the book back to the receptionist.

"Actually six years. One of the patients got a hold of the book and thought it'd be funny to check himself in. Don't ask me why they still keep me on the payroll." She huffed.

Bill was frantically writing down all that the receptionist had said in his notebook. These people had been truly abandoned by their families. They had been cast aside like they were spoiled leftovers. Bill had opened his mouth to ask more, before a male nurse had walked up to him.

"You're that paper kid, right? B…Bob? Brenan?"

"Bill." He smiled and held his hand out.

"Oh, sorry. My name's Georg. I'm one of the nurses here. Well, I'm not just a nurse. I'm also the sedater…and the restrainer." He laughed softly.

"Uh-huh…and how old are you?" Bill asked him, quickly writing everything down in his notebook.

"Well I'm 24 now, but in a few months I'll be 25." Georg smiled warmly. "Who's supposed to assign you a patient?"

"Uhm, I think they said his name was Gustav." Bill smiled warmly, noticing another figure come up to him.

"Hair…it's black. My fur is black. Isn't it pretty?" A female patient had smiled at Bill. Her hair was greasy and tangled, her eyes dark and sunken in.

"I think we best get you back to bed, little lady." Georg sighed softly at the woman, touching her arm.

In a flash, the lady's once calm composure had changed and she backed away from Georg's arm, hissing as if she was a cat. She proceeded to meow at him and hiss, even growling. The female patient leaned forward and scratched at Georg, slapping him hard across the face. In a quick flash, Georg had gripped the lady's arms with one hand, his walkie-talkie in the other.

"Assistance needed in the lobby, we have a code 604. I repeat, code 604 in the lobby."

It wasn't much longer before two other men hand come down, one of them helping Georg restrain the lady while the other gave the lady a sedative in the form of a shot. The lady slowly fell asleep in their arms and was carried away by one of the two men that had assisted Georg.

Meanwhile, Bill had been furiously scribbling down all that was happening, his eyes lit up with excitement. He couldn't believe how lucky he had been to see such a freak out. Bill quickly finished scribbling down what had unfolded before his eyes and closed his notebook. As he looked up, a rather stoic looking man had approached him.

"Your name is Bill?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's me." Bill smiled and held out his hand.

"What kind of patient do you need to research?" The man looked down at Bill's hand coldly, before looking back up at Bill.

"Oh, well I'd love the most insane criminal you've got." Bill grinned brightly, seemingly not fazed by the fact that the man had ignored his handshake.

"What about Ward F, Gustav?" Georg had approached them, a small grin on his face.

"Yeah, as if he could handle it." Gustav responded rather emotionlessly.

"Please, take me there! Is that the worst part of the asylum? I need the most fucked up person you've got!" Bill looked almost desperate.

"Ward F it is, then." Gustav responded. "Follow me."

Bill nodded and followed Gustav when he had started to walk. His eyes wandered around the big building, taking in all of the sights and sounds, the moans and groans from the patients, and the way the paint chipped from the walls. Gustav led him to a staircase and Bill followed. They climbed the stairs until the fourth floor, where Bill had noticed a severe difference in the layout. As opposed to the freedom to move around on the first floor, the fourth floor patients were all housed in seclusion cells, some of them even chained to the walls in their rooms.

Gustav looked around, his eyes darting to the darker places within the ward. Ward F, where the most violent and insane patients were kept, was known for murders. The patients sometimes would escape and lurk around; waiting for someone to come so they could attack them. The last thing that Gustav wanted was to die, especially since his favorite show was on later that night.

"You said you wanted the most fucked up one we got?" Gustav asked Bill.

"The worst of the worst." Bill grinned with a nod.

"Stay four feet away from the cell door. That's how the last guy died." Gustav responded firmly.

"Wait…he killed someone in here?"

"Sure did. One of the staff members took a liking to him. He bought him a guitar so he could keep his hands busy and channel his aggression somewhere else. The fucker pretended something was wrong with his guitar and lured the staff member close enough to the bars. He had taken off one of his guitar strings earlier, so when the staff member came, he reached his hands around the bars and ended up strangling him to death with the guitar string. So much for a thank you for the gift." Gustav huffed.

"That's so sad." Bill responded as he wrote down Gustav's words.

"Not really. If he hadn't died, I wouldn't have gotten his job." Gustav shrugged before he grabbed a chair. "Stay here."

Bill nodded as he watched Gustav walk to the end of the hallway and place the chair a good distance from the cell. Gustav had begun to speak in a low whisper to whoever was inside of the cell, in a warning tone. Bill wished he could make out what Gustav was saying, but he just couldn't. When Gustav had come back, his eyes had a rather threatening look to them.

"Four feet." He nearly growled to Bill.

"Four feet." Bill nodded.

"Bill," Gustav motioned for Bill to follow him, leading him to the last cell. "Meet Tom Kaulitz."


	2. Chapter 2

Bill followed Gustav down the hallway to the last cell to the left. The door to the cell was made of a thick kind of metal with one window in the door. The window was rather large, almost covering the entire expanse of the right side of the door. It almost stretched from ceiling to floor, but was just a few feet on both ends short and was made of what was possibly bulletproof plexiglass. There was a handle on the door and a chain and lock on Bill's side, which is how Bill guessed they got the patients out if they needed to bathe them. Inside the window were a few little circles punched through the plexiglass so that one could speak to whoever was inside. They were wide enough to fit hands through if one wanted.

Inside the cell sat a rather young looking man. He surely didn't look like he could be the mass murderer that everyone was claiming he was. He was sitting on the floor, wearing a gray one piece jumpsuit that was identical to the ones worn by every other patient Bill had passed in the ward. Around his ankles were shackles which attached to chains that were securely fastened to the wall. It looked as if he could walk to the window, but that was as far as his chains would let him go. Should the door be open, he probably couldn't just walk right out.

"Meet Tom Kaulitz." Gustav introduced Bill to the young man in the cell, who looked up, his eyes crazed, dark circles around them, his lips twisted into a half-smirk.

"Mm, Gustav. You brought me a boy? Ah it's fine. I'll stick my cock in anything I can get." He chuckled to himself, a slight twitch shuddering through his body every once in a while, as if he was trying to shake something off.

"I said be fucking nice or I'm bringing you to the electro-therapy room again." Gustav growled before he walked down to the end of the ward's hallway and sitting down in a chair, turning on one of the televisions that were really only for guards or visitors.

"Ooh, he's a tough one, he is. Isn't he, Precious?" Tom grinned and tilted his head to the side, looking at Bill.

"Oh! Do you mean me?" Bill blinked in confusion.

"No, I'm talking to my other personality! Who the hell do you think I'm talking to? I'm not crazy." Tom growled out.

"Of course you're not." Bill answered slowly, not sure if Tom was really aware that he was in fact, in a mental institution. "But my name is Bill, not Precious."

"How old are you, Precious?"

"My name is Bill and I'm eighteen." Bill huffed slightly before he sat down in a chair that he made sure was at least four feet away from the cell door.

"Mm, you're a young one, yes, Precious." Tom tilted his head to the side, a half smirk on his face.

Bill studied Tom's features and wrote them down. He appeared to be young, maybe a little bit older than Bill was, but not by much. His complexion was perfect, his skin naturally a darker shade than Bill's perfect porcelain hue. Tom's hair was black and pulled back in cornrows. The braids twisted and turned on his head and came down just a bit below his neck. Bill couldn't lie; he was very attractive, even if he was a mental patient. However, Bill noticed a slight flaw on Tom. Under the left side, Bill's right, of Tom's bottom lip was a little indentation.

"Can I ask how old you are, Tom?" Bill asked in a careful, sweet, and gentle voice, his eyes fixated on the spot under Tom's lip.

"Mm, only if you suck my dick." Tom smirked and flicked his tongue against his lip, frowning for some reason, as if realizing something that once was there wasn't any more.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Bill nearly gasped out in shock.

"I'm twenty. Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face? They all look at me like this! I swear if there's something on my face they aren't telling me about, I'll kill them!" Tom growled as he stumbled to his feet, causing Gustav to look up and stare.

"No no no! There's nothing! It just looks like you have a hole under your lip. I was wondering if you used to have it pierced!" Bill squeaked out in shock and fear. If the last guy was killed easily, there's no doubt Tom was dangerous.

"Oh…" Tom calmed down quickly and once more sat down. "Yes it used to be pierced. When I came here, they made me take it out. I fought them for it; I really did, so they used the pliers." Tom rambled on, looking down at his hands.

Bill watched Tom. He was more down-to-Earth than Bill thought he would be. How could this man be that dangerous? All Bill wanted to do was give him a hug and tell him he would be okay. Sure, he talked to himself and had a quick temper, but so did Bill, and Bill wasn't in a mental institution. He wanted to know why Tom was here. He felt like he had to know.

"Tom, why did they bring you here in the first place?" Bill asked softly.

Tom looked down at his hands as Bill spoke, listening to the question before his eyes grew dark, like a storm on the horizon on a once sunny beach. He growled and jumped to his feet, the shackles around his ankles clanking as he paced back and forth, chewing at a hangnail. Tom closed his eyes and placed his fingers to his forehead, rubbing his temple before he began to mutter to himself. It was like he was talking to someone else that just wasn't there. It scared Bill to be honest.

"I killed him…" Tom said remorsefully, his voice full of sorrow before he looked to Bill and growled. "I killed him." He then chuckled, his eyes still dark and dangerous.

"Who did you kill, Tom?" Bill unconsciously stood, walking closer to the cell.

"I killed him." Tom laughed, fighting at the heavy metal restraints that kept his ankles chained to the wall. He suddenly rushed forward and slammed his hands against the plexiglass, staring straight into Bill's eyes, like he was staring directly into his soul. "I KILLED HIM!" He shouted loudly in joy before sinking to the floor and laughing as he rocked back and forth, holding his knees to his chest. "I killed him…and then I fucked him."

Bill stared down at Tom in shock, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. This man had murdered more than once. He killed a man and then fucked his corpse. Bill felt like he should be sick, but all he did was drop to his knees and scoot closer to the plexiglass, his palms on the glass as he stared at Tom, gazing into those crazed eyes.

"I can help you." He whispered softly.

"I want to kill you." Tom looked back at him, grinning to himself.

"But what have I done to deserve that?"

"Because you won't let me fuck you unless you're dead, Precious." He leaned forward, jumping at the glass and slamming his fists into it as he began to yell. "COME ON AND LET ME SLIT YOUR THROAT! LET ME FUCK THE LIFE OUT OF YOU!" He banged harder on the glass, like an animal trying to get out of a cage.

Gustav jumped to his feet immediately and ran to the cell, pulling Bill up to his feet and pushing him back. He picked up his walkie-talkie and ordered all of the restrainers to come quickly to Ward F. It wasn't long before four male nurses, one of them being Georg, were entering the cell and holding Tom down as he screamed and writhed underneath them. It must have taken about four injections before Tom's eyes slowly closed and his body stilled, falling into a medically induced sleep. After the men cleared the area, Gustav gripped Bill by the shirt.

"I told you fucking four feet! Do you want to get your damn self killed, you idiot?!" He yelled loudly into Bill's face.

"I-I-I just thought if I could help him. If he could see me on his level…" Bill whispered and looked down, his eyes tearing up with remorse.

"Ah fuck, man. Don't cry." Gustav panicked. He was never one to deal with tears well. It was a shock he got along with women. "It's okay! How about two days from now you can come back and try it again." He bargained with Bill.

"Okay! I'll be back! Same time and everything!" Bill instantly cheered up, smiling as he gave Gustav a quick hug and grabbed his notebook, running down the stairs to the main floor.

Bill quickly jogged to the receptionist's desk and signed himself out on the guestbook, promising the receptionist that he would be back in two days. He ran back out to his car and sat in the driver's seat. He must have been there for what seemed like hours, writing down every single thing that happened during his encounter with Tom Kaulitz. It was a day he would never let himself forget and an excellent beginning to what was sure to be an A+ worthy paper. Finally after he was done, he placed his notebook on the seat next to him and drove himself home.

Once to his house, Bill grabbed his notebook and trudged his way to his bedroom, parking himself down in front of his computer. Typing at a lightning-fast speed, he started on his paper, filling in every single detail he found worthy of his sure-to-be excellent paper. He read over what he typed up at least five times before saving it and turning off his computer.

Bill looked at the clock and frowned. It was only around 9:35PM but he was still so tired. The encounter with Tom had made his heart race faster than anything he'd ever experienced in his life. Even though he had been scared, he knew that he would have to go back.

Ridding himself of all but his black boxer-briefs, Bill shut his light off and climbed into bed, closing his eyes. It took him only a few minutes to fall asleep and enter the dream world he was so fond of. The only dreams he had were of the mysterious Tom Kaulitz he met; the murder, the necrophiliac, the crazed mental patient. He had to meet Tom again. There was no question in his mind.


End file.
